


Like We Used To

by intricatearticulation (chemma66)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 10:39:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14735414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemma66/pseuds/intricatearticulation
Summary: Steve spends the night in an alley while Bucky spends the night in worry. When Steve returns, a few things come to a head with the help of a loose t-shirt and a drafty room.





	Like We Used To

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unknownsister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknownsister/gifts).



> This was a gift that I promised [unknownsister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknownsister/profile) approximately 5,000 years ago. I am sorry it took this long, but I am so, so happy that I stuck with it. Here is your cushiony-soft Stucky, now with improved bed sharing and sleepy cuddles :)
> 
> Thank you, as always, to the beta-talents of [myowneviltwin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/myowneviltwin/profile)! And a special shout-out to my friend pseuds who read this even when it didn't have the sex and encouraged me to keep going. Bless you both.

Bucky had begun his fifth circuit of their tiny living room when he heard the tell-tale thump of the busted step leading to their floor: the board was near-rotted underneath the worn carpet and always slid out a bit and back in each time someone stepped on it. 

 

Steve couldn’t really skip any of the steps, not when he was on flight 3 out of 5 and most likely well out of breath. Especially at the end of a weekday when he had two shifts, which always made Bucky upset. Steve usually got sick when he pushed himself like that.

 

Bucky had spent the night tossing and turning in his creaky bed, worrying and then feeling guilty about worrying. Steve had missed Friday dinner; neither of them were ever late for Friday dinner. Friday was pizza from Ray’s down the street. The older woman, Steve knew her name, always worked the counter on Fridays. One look at Steve and she’d shoo away his order of 2 plain slices and give him two large Sicilians pies on the house, citing some picky customer or burnt crust. 

 

Steve would let her get away with it because he’d give one to the homeless vets who camped at the building on the corner, keeping the other for him and Bucky to split. It’s the most full they’ll be all week, if the last couple months were any indication.

 

Bucky stops his pacing long enough to hear Steve’s approach before he moves to the door and opens it himself.

 

“Steve-” is all Bucky gets out, before his anger vanishes. Steve was limping with no shoes and half of his shirt missing, scrapes scattered across his skin.

 

“Shit,” Bucky mutters, meeting Steve in the hallway to help him limp inside.

 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Steve says, trying for a smile that turns into a wince as he tries to put all of his weight on his leg.

 

Without a word, Bucky arranges Steve’s arm over his shoulders and leans down to place his other arm around Steve’s waist. Bucky takes nearly all of Steve’s weight as they begin moving slowly forward.

 

“You always say that,” Bucky says, trying to keep his tone even.

 

“And I’m usually right?” Steve tries, huffing out a small laugh at what they both knew was a total lie.

 

Bucky doesn’t answer and focuses instead on getting Steve to the couch a short distance away. The main room of their apartment is essentially the only common space and functions as both their kitchen and living room: medium sized, outdated wallpaper, second-hand furniture and appliances. It’s simple and slightly shabby from age, but well-kept. 

 

Bucky walks Steve the few steps over to the couch and attempts to help him lower down gently, but Steve waves him away and falls into an elegant heap instead. Bucky reaches over to flip the lamp on, only feeling a little bad for Steve’s grimace from the sudden light. 

 

“I’m so glad to be home,” Steve says, closing his eyes and leaning back into the cushions. His voice sounds rough and ragged, which immediately cause Bucky to worry.

 

Bucky stands in front of Steve, cataloguing his injuries and doing his best to glare until Steve notices. He finally relents and opens his eyes a few moments later.

 

“Alright, I’m explaining,” Steve says, his hands raised in surrender. “But sit down so you’re not towering over me like that. It’s scary.”

 

Steve pats the place next to him and Bucky sits, leaning back against the opposite arm rest so he can face Steve while he’s talking. Steve makes an effort to clear his throat before he begins.

 

“There were these guys outside of Ray’s--” Steve starts.

 

“Dammit, Steve,” Bucky nearly shouts, cutting him off.

 

“I haven’t even said yet!” Steve replies, his raised voice triggering a small bout of coughing.

 

“I know the story,” Bucky says, watching Steve has he works to get his breath back. “There were some guys somewhere talking shit, and you decided to step in, or defend someone, or help  _ anyone _ but yourself, and then- this!”

 

“What am I supposed to do, Buck? Just leave it?” Steve asks, desperate.

 

“Yes!” Bucky shouts. The look on Steve’s face makes him back-track. “Yes, if it’s a fight that you know you can’t win. Steve, you can’t go picking these--”

 

“I’m not picking fights. You  _ know _ that’s not what I’m doing,” Steve says, doing his best to be angry, though the pale face and shaking limbs don’t help his case.

 

“I know,” Bucky says, slumping in his seat next to Steve. “I know.”

 

Sometimes Bucky hates Steve’s heroic side, especially when it puts his already strained health at risk and drives Bucky crazy with worry. But he knows that the kindness in Steve, that desire to help everyone around him (regardless of whether they deserve it), is a large part of why he’s completely in love with him.

 

Steve starts to say something, but his inhale is ragged and sets off more coughs.

 

“Cough came back?” Bucky asks as he stands to get a glass of water for Steve.

 

“Yeah, it was there when I woke up,” Steve says as Bucky pulls down a clean glass and fills it from the tap.

 

“Woke up where?” Bucky asks, handing over the glass.

 

Steve chugs half before answering, his eyes sheepish. He’d been struggling with this cough all through fall, trying to kick whatever was plaguing him before the colder weather hit. Bucky would blame it on the draft in Steve’s room, but he’s made that argument fruitlessly a million times before. Bucky’s room is a little bigger and more insulated, but it only has the one window. Steve’s, on the other hand, Bucky calls a glorified closet. Steve begged for the room with the “amazing light” in the mornings that make it “impossible” for him to resist drawing.

 

“I uh… I was outside. In an alley somewhere near Ray’s,” Steve mumbles.

 

“All night?” Bucky asks, already knowing the answer.

 

“At least it was nearby,” Steve offers, taking another sip of water.

 

“Oh sure, yeah. I’m sorry you had to sleep on the street, Steve, but at least you were within a few blocks of home so… so what?” Bucky says, flinging his arms up in exasperation. “It makes no difference!”

 

“I’m sorry!” Steve shouts back. “I’m sorry, Buck. I stood up to some jerks, they followed me to Ray’s and jumped me in an alley where they had friends waiting. I didn’t know. I didn’t… I’m sorry.” 

 

Steve visibly deflates, sinking even further into their ragged couch. Bucky sighs, rubbing his hand across his forehead.

 

“I get it, pal. I get it. I just worry about you, alright?” Bucky says, repeating the phrase that Steve has heard a million times by now.

 

Bucky lets Steve finish the water before getting up for another glass.

 

“You feel like eating something?” Bucky asks, opening the door to the icebox. He had stashed half of a turkey and cheese hero he bought when Steve hadn’t come home.

 

“I need to clean off, first,” Steve says, pushing himself to his feet.

 

Bucky watches him as he limps slowly over to their bathroom, thankful that their place had a working toilet and practically elegant tub (once they’d scrubbed away the rust), one that Bucky and Steve indulge in frequently. Bucky waits until he hears the bathroom door close before letting out all of his breath in a rush, leaning against the counter. 

 

Bucky always assumed the worst when it came to Steve, because it often  _ was _ something terrible. He’d learned that quickly when they were younger: Steve Rogers had a way of finding the trouble, no matter his physical strength at the given moment. It had a way of putting Bucky’s feelings into harsh perspective each time; and yet, the courage to say something to Steve always failed him. The risks seemed too great - the chance that he might lose Steve’s friendship at the top of the list.

 

Bucky might look strong on the outside, but inside he was about as fragile as they come. And when it came to Steve, he was hopeless.

 

A loud thump sounds from the bathroom, snapping Bucky out of his pining. He walks over to the door, knocking sharply.

 

“Steve? You alright?” Bucky asks, hearing water splash as he speaks.

“Yeah, Buck, just--” Steve answers. Bucky hears the sound of skin slipping against porcelain and a muffled curse.

 

“Steve-” Bucky says, starting to turn the doorknob.

 

“Dont!” Steve shouts from inside, the tone halting Bucky in his tracks. It’s not one he hears often. “I don’t want-- I… just stay out there.”

 

“Okay,” Bucky says, brow furrowing in confusion. He and Steve have seen each other changing more times than he can count; he doesn’t understand what makes this moment any different.

 

“I’m fine. I am. Just… you can leave the door cracked. I’ll give you a shout if I need help,” Steve relents.

 

Bucky smiles, easing the door open a few inches, steam spilling from the space; he risks a glance, knowing the tub in the far corner won’t be visible. Sure enough, all he sees is a foggy mirror and their sink. He stands there, debating whether to sit on the couch, like he should, or stay by the door, like he wants to.

 

After a moment’s deliberation, he sinks to his haunches and slides quietly to sit on the floor by the door. He resolves to get up when he hears Steve getting out of the bath, so he doesn’t feel too guilty.

 

Unfortunately, the night of tossing and turning didn’t do anything for him; he’s absolutely exhausted, both physically and emotionally. He doesn’t notice how quickly he begins to nod off, and the next thing he realizes, Steve is nudging him awake with a bare foot and a smirk.

 

“Couch would have been much better for your back,” Steve says, offering a hand to pull Bucky to his feet. Steve is wearing his gray sweats and a worn white t-shirt, the gaping neck hanging loosely from his frame. It’s a clear indication that the item is actually Bucky’s and, even though it’s not the first time, something in him warms at the sight. 

 

“Yeah, but you know how hard it is to get me off of that thing,” Bucky says, rubbing his neck to work out the kink.

 

Steve smiles, looking a thousand times better than when he’d walked through the door, though Bucky can see a scrape peeking through the collar and a bruise forming on Steve’s thin arm. Bucky places a careful hand on Steve’s back, leading him over to the kitchen. Steve follows, taking the glass of water Bucky hands him before pulling the sandwich out of the icebox.

 

“I’m fine, Buck. I can do all of this on--” Steve starts.

 

“Yeah, yeah, save it, Rogers,” Buck cuts him off, laying the sandwich on a plate and sliding it over to where Steve’s sat at their table. “We’ve been taking care of each other since day one, and I’m tired of you complaining. Get used to it.”

 

Steve looks like he’s about to reply until he looks down at the sandwich, shrugs, and bites into it with fervor. Bucky smirks as they chat about nonsensical things: a new guy at Ray’s Pizza, the strange neighbor down the hall, the next ball game at Coney Island. Bucky doesn’t have to wait long for him to eat; Steve is wiping away the leftover crumbs from his fingers just a few minutes later. Bucky smiles as Steve leans back in his chair, everything a bit better now that he’s clean and fed. Steve looks up, meeting Bucky’s gaze. The moment is heavy but familiar, speaking to the kind of comfort the two find easily at home together.

 

Bucky breaks first, pushing back from the table.

 

“I dunno about you, but I’m exhausted,” Bucky says as he stands, stretching with a grimace until he feels his back crack. 

 

Steve nods, standing to clear the plate. When he turns back around, Bucky is waiting; he can’t shake the feeling of reluctance to close himself off in his room, the desire to be near Steve stronger than he’s used to after his night of distress. They both start for the hall at the same time, Bucky’s hesitation tripping him up. They dance back and forth for a second until Bucky laughs, stepping back to let Steve walk by. Steve chuckles once or twice before breathing in, the rattle in his throat quickly giving way to a violent bout of coughing.

 

“Ah shit,” Bucky mumbles as Steve buckles over with his hacking. He waves a hand to show Bucky that he’s fine, but Bucky’s not buying it.

 

“You should sleep in my room tonight,” Bucky says once Steve’s coughs have mostly subsided. “Just until your cough clears up,” he quickly adds, once Steve looks up at him in surprise.

 

Steve works on catching his breath, looking like he’s formulating an excuse to beg off Bucky’s offer already.

 

“You  _ know _ the night outside took a toll on you, Steve. One night in that freezing room is just going to make it worse.”

 

“But--” Steve starts, cough barely withheld. 

 

“No amount of your damn blankets will do you good this time and you know it,” Bucky says. Steve still looks skeptical, but the wind has already begun to howl through their creaky windows, the New York City winter in full affect. “It’ll make me feel better,” Bucky adds. Steve deflates immediately.

 

“Fine, but you’re not sleeping in mine either,” Steve says, stomping down the hallway.

 

“What?” Bucky says, automatically following. He quickly runs through the options in his head: Steve’s bed, the floor, the couch. Apparently Steve’s bed is out because he didn’t think that one through (he always forgets how far Steve can take his stubborn self-sacrificing shit), the floor is… really not even an option at all, and the couch couldn’t even take half of him lengthwise. 

 

Steve makes a detour for his room and returns with the huge quilt that his mother made for him: it’s not the best stitching or the nicest fabric, but it’s thick and excellent for cold nights. Steve hardly sleeps without it, keeping it underneath him or pushed to the side even in the summer. He stands triumphantly outside of Bucky’s closed door, waiting for permission.

 

“You heard me. You don’t fit on the couch and I don’t want you to suffer in the cold either,” Steve says, as though it’s as simple as that. “Besides, if you got sick, who’d take care of me?” He adds, smiling; he knows he’s won. It’s so simple, and Bucky curses inwardly for not seeing it coming.

 

Bucky sighs, stepping forward to twist the handle and push open the door to his room. He keeps it neat, both out of habit from sharing when he was younger and out of lack of actual things to clutter. A few movie posters decorate the walls and a couple free weights rest in the corner. The queen mattress he scored from his parents move is raised by pallets that he found himself on late night walks through the city, stained and hammered together to make a decent bed frame.

 

Steve brushes past Bucky, spreading the quilt over the haphazardly made bed in the corner.

 

“We can share, like we used to?” Steve suggests. 

 

Several emotions run through Bucky all at once: excitement, warmth, fear, trepidation, and dread. He panics, trying not to let it show on his face.

 

“Uh, well--” He begins, clamoring for any excuse. Saying yes could be dangerous, but saying no might hurt Steve. In any decision, that’s always the one he tries to avoid.

 

“Sure,” Bucky answers, trying to act nonchalant as he pulls back the layers of blankets on the bed. “But if you steal all of the covers, I’ll have to kick you,” he jokes.

 

“Fair enough,” Steve answers, chuckling as he climbs into the other side. 

 

Bucky steals a glance before leaning over to turn off the lamp on his side; Steve’s cheeks have a red glow that’s rare for him and a small smile that is Bucky’s favorite. Bucky feels the warmth gather in his chest, overriding all else as he lays comfortably in his bed.

 

Steve is cautious as he arranged himself, but the size of the bed makes touching inevitable. Steve lays on his side, back flush with Bucky’s side. Bucky can feel him move with every breath, overly aware of his own as well.

 

“This okay?” Steve murmurs. Bucky wishes he could see his face.

 

“Yeah,” Bucky answers quietly. 

 

Bucky is terrified for about two whole minutes that he won’t be able to fall asleep; that the night will be a restless one and he’ll be exhausted for his shift tomorrow. But once he reaches minute three, he finds himself drifting, his eyelids heavy as the stress from the day takes its toll. He turns his head to the side to watch Steve’s breathing slow, the tension in his shoulders melt away. Bucky smiles, eyes closing as he focuses on the soft sounds.

 

The next time Bucky wakes, he has no idea why. He can’t remember dreaming, only a deep sleep and warmth all around him. As his brain catches up, his heartbeat quickens. He’s on his back, arms wrapped around his best friend as though they belong precisely as they are: one wrapped under and around Steve’s neck, pulling him closer by the shoulder; the other reaching down to Steve’s hip, Bucky’s large hands reaching toward his back, angling Steve towards him. It seems as though his brain wasn’t able to repress his feelings during sleep, and Bucky curses himself for it.

 

A clatter sounds from outside as the shop beneath them opens their shutter for the day; Bucky’s eyes snap open, heart rate kicking up another notch. He can’t move his face to see Steve, who’s currently tucked snugly under his chin, but it seems that Steve’s still sleeping. Bucky holds his breath, waiting for the moment to break.

 

Steve shuffles, mumbling something as he pulls himself ever-closer. His arms wrap around Bucky’s chest, one leg tucked between Bucky’s and the other slung over his hip.

 

“Buck…” Steve mumbles, startling Bucky once more. He stills, waiting for Steve to pull away. Moments pass, but Steve remains wrapped firmly around him.

 

Steve sighs, a long, contended thing that lights Bucky up from the inside. Steve feels warm, his body a normal temperature for once. Bucky imagines that his coughing didn’t bother him at all last night, as it would have woken Bucky as well. Even when Steve is in the next room, Bucky tosses and turns with worry just listening to him struggle to breathe evenly.

 

Bucky lays in his bed, wide awake, with a cock that is becoming increasingly interested in the warm body pressed against him. Steve’s humid breath gusts across his shoulder and chest; Bucky can feel the goosebumps rise in its wake. 

 

In full panic mode, Bucky considers his options: if he moves, Steve will probably wake up and wonder why Bucky is clinging to him; if he doesn’t move, Steve  _ might _ just shift away on his own.

 

Just as Bucky resigns himself to never moving again, Steve moves.

 

“Mmmh,” Steve hums, nestling his head further into Bucky’s neck.

 

Bucky’s heart breaks into a thousand pieces, knowing that this may be the only time he can have Steve like this. The thought alone propels him to shift, slowly drawing his arms away.

 

“Noooo,” Steve grumbles sleepily, curling himself closer to Bucky.

 

Bucky curses himself again. He should have  _ waited _ , and now Steve is definitely going to see-

 

“Bucky?” Steve mumbles, lifting his head. Bucky immediately pulls his hands away.

 

“I’m sorry, Steve - I didn’t, I just woke up and - I’m sorry,” Buck says in a rush. “I’ll get up, I--”

 

“Wait,” Steve says, almost too quiet for Bucky to hear; he immediately stills his progress.

 

“What?” Bucky asks, looking down at Steve; he looks like he’s trying to hide somewhere in Bucky’s shirt.

 

“Can we…” Steve begins. Bucky feels his heart pumping loudly in his ears as he waits for Steve to finish the thought.

 

“Can we stay like this?” Steve asks.

 

Bucky opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. He swallows, tries again.

 

“You want to… For us to…” Bucky has no idea how to ask the question he actually wants the answer to.

 

“Forget it, I’m sorry,” Steve says, sighing as he sits up.

 

“Wait wait wait, Steve. Stop,” Bucky says, grasping Steve’s arm before he can get too far. “What are you asking me?” Bucky says, hoping Steve can be the brave one; he usually is in Bucky’s eyes.

 

“I’m… I just… I want--” Steve growls, frustrated with himself. “I don’t know how to do this!” He says, slumping forward until his head rests in his hands.

 

After a moment of silence, Bucky reaches out, placing his hand gently on Steve’s back. Steve jumps, just a little, but doesn’t move away. They sit, Steve searching for the words while Bucky tries to believe that this is actually happening. Finally, Steve lifts his head.

 

“You’re better at this. You actually  _ do _ this with people, and I can’t even say it out loud,” Steve says, more to himself than to Bucky.

 

Bucky pulls himself up to lean next to Steve, their bodies pressed together while his hand stays at Steve’s back. 

 

“You’re my best friend, Steve. I would do anything for you, you know that by now,” Bucky says, hoping that the sentiment will reassure him.

 

“But that’s just it!” Steve says. “I don’t want you to… to like me like that, to do anything out of some weird sense of duty. I don’t want to you to think you  _ need _ to give me this or something, Buck, I want--” Steve trails off as though he lost his nerve.

 

“What do you want?” Buck asks, leaning closer. His skin feels like it’s buzzing, warmth everywhere that he’s touching Steve.

 

“I want more,” Steve says, looking down. “I want more than just friendship and looking out for each other. I want you here, with me. Or in my bed, or on the couch or…or… wherever it is we we are, I want you to hold me when we sleep. To take me out, to… to kiss me, dance with me, everything. I want all of that with you, Buck, and I don’t know what that means for us.”

 

Bucky can’t help it: the relief bubbles in his stomach, travelling upwards at full force until it escapes as a ridiculous bout of giggles. And once he’s started, he can’t seem to stop. He leans his head against Steve’s shoulder, shaking with quiet laughter.

 

“Are you laughing at me?” Steve asks, sounding absolutely destroyed.

 

“No!” Bucky shouts, laughter halted as he reaches over to tilt Steve’s face toward his own. “Steve, no. I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing… well, I’m just relieved, honestly. I guess I’m laughing at myself.”

 

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, hopeful. 

 

“I want all of that too,” Bucky explains, cupping his palm against Steve’s cheek to pull him closer. “I’ve wanted you ever since I learned what it was to want.”

 

“Really?” Steve asks, chuckling as his eyes go glassy.

 

“Really,” Bucky says, brushing his nose against Steve’s. “Does that mean I can kiss you now?”

 

“Yes,” Steve answers immediately. “Yes, please, Bucky, you gotta--” Steve starts, cut off by Bucky’s mouth capturing his own.

 

The kiss is close-lipped and intense, breath huffing out through their noses as they press and shift together. After a few moments, they break apart reluctantly, still breathing into each other’s mouths as they lean their foreheads together. Bucky opens his eyes: Steve still has his closed, but he has the biggest grin on his face that Bucky might have ever seen.

 

He starts to giggle again.

 

“Dammit, Barnes,” Steve says, shoving him away playfully. “This is serious.”

 

“Mhmm,” Bucky agrees between giggles. Steve smacks him again, and Bucky catches his hand to tug him closer. Steve goes easily, arms reaching up to anchor around Bucky’s neck, Bucky’s arms folding around him in return. They kiss again, a little slower, a little easier this time. Bucky can feel Steve’s smile against his lips and it turns the kiss sloppy and a little uncoordinated. 

 

Bucky starts to shift them to lay down, stopping when he remembers something.

 

“Shit, wait,” he says, pulling back. “Are you hurting anywhere? Should I not…” Bucky trails off, not sure what he should offer.

 

“Buck,” Steve says, his hand reaching up to Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m fine, I promise. Just a couple scrapes and bruises. Once they realized I didn’t have anything on me, I wasn’t worth it.” Steve finishes with a shrug. He tugs on Bucky to pull him closer.

 

Bucky relents, if only to hide his reaction to what Steve’s just said. All of his worry, his anger, and the frustration comes flooding back - so he presses his forehead against Steve’s, breathing deeply through his nose and holding Steve close.

 

Steve seems to understand, welcoming Bucky’s intense embrace without question. He gives Bucky the time he needs to calm, stroking his hands through Bucky’s hair for a few minutes while his breathing slows.

 

Finally, Bucky pulls back slowly, resting above Steve on his elbows. He brings his palm to cup Steve’s face in his hand, his rough calluses brushing against his smooth, reddened cheek. Steve closes his eyes and hums, leaning into the caress. Bucky leans down and kisses him, over and over; little sips, some more lingering, some just pecks, as though he can’t get enough now that he’s allowed. Steve revels in the attention, kissing back when needed or simply allowing Bucky to taste and explore.

 

“I didn’t know I could ever have this,” Bucky says, the weight finally lifted from his chest and freeing his inner fears. “I thought… even if I could ask, it would be too much.”

 

Steve opens his eyes, looking over at Bucky with a strange expression. Slowly, he shifts his hips forward, tightening the arms he has around Bucky’s waist. Bucky can feel him, can feel the warmth and strength of Steve as their groins nearly press together. Steve watches his expression carefully, blush creeping up his neck.

 

“Bucky,” Steve answers, careful and still a little unsure. He slips his leg over Bucky’s, intertwining them from the waist down and bringing them flush against each other. “You can have everything,” he finishes, a little breathless.

 

Bucky moans at the contact, pressing forward as he reaches his hand toward the small of Steve’s back. They’re both clearly hard, breathing heavily and shifting their hips without realizing it. Bucky captures Steve’s mouth again, using the momentum to roll on top of him; he settles there, touching at nearly every point except for where his arms hold his head above Steve’s.

 

“Everything?” Bucky asks, mouthing along Steve’s jaw as Steve gasps below him, back arching for more contact. Bucky rolls his hips, just a little, and Steve’s legs spread to fit him in between.

 

“Everything,” Steve gasps, hands clutching at Bucky’s t-shirt as he wraps his legs around Bucky’s hips.

 

They kiss, moving together in the early morning light. Steve is a voracious kisser, Bucky is happy to find. He can tell Steve hasn’t done this much, but the enthusiasm and the fact that it’s  _ Steve _ overrides any other thought. Bucky runs his tongue along the shape of Steve’s lips, nipping and teasing a bit as Steve tries to chase after him.

 

“Come. Here,” Steve mumbles as Bucky giggles, letting Steve pull him by the neck to mash their mouths together once more. Bucky captures Steve’s lower lip, sucking as he pulls; Steve gasps and Bucky slips his tongue inside of his mouth - slowly, at first, waiting for Steve’s reaction. A second barely passes before Steve is moaning at the intrusion, rubbing his own tongue along Bucky’s.

 

Eventually, Bucky pulls away for air, mouthing along Steve’s neck. He keeps it as delicate as he can manage, knowing Steve’s sensitive skin will pick up a mark with the slightest pressure. He pants into the warmth of Steve’s neck, nosing along his collar bone. Steve is catching his breath below him, and Bucky looks over in time to catch his ridiculous grin.

 

Bucky smirks in return as he pushes himself upright to pull his shirt swiftly over his head. He’s practiced this move countless times and only dreamed about being able to do this with Steve; Bucky smirks down at him now with ruffled hair and a beautiful, muscled chest - the product of mostly manual labor-type jobs. 

 

Steve’s grin disappears as his jaw slowly descends, adopting a look that Bucky has  _ never _ seen him wear. It’s as if he’s hungry, but it has absolutely nothing to do with food.

 

The moment stretches, Bucky holding himself above Steve while he drinks his fill. Steve’s hands slowly rise, inching closer to touching Bucky. The first brush is tentative, a light graze over his hip bones and gentle sweep upwards. Bucky leans into the touch, eyes closing at the simple motion. Without thinking, Bucky takes Steve’s hands and presses them harder and closer, dragging them up to where he wants them.

 

Steve takes the encouragement to heart, pushing himself up to bring his face closer to Bucky’s torso. Steve’s hands move upward while his mouth kisses and nuzzles along Bucky’s stomach, using every available sense to map this new area of skin. Bucky feels heady with the attention, both overwhelmingly aroused and utterly happy. He wraps his arms around Steve, pulling him closer and relaxing into his touches. 

 

Steve continues to worship Bucky this way, drawing sighs over sensitive areas and half-giggles when he finds a ticklish spot. He covers every inch with kisses, seemingly unaware of the potential effect on Bucky's nipples until he brushes his lips over the perked nub. 

 

“Ah!” Bucky shouts, hips bucking forward involuntarily.

 

Steve’s eyes flick up to Bucky’s face as he pulls away.

 

“Are you okay?” He asks, voice raspy.

 

“Yeah, yes,” Bucky says, wanting to laugh but thinking better of it. “That was…” Bucky begins, but has to stop to clear his throat. “That was a good ‘ah.’”

 

“Ah,” Steve says, nodding.

 

A smile creeps onto his face, keeping eye contact with Bucky has he leans forward and flicks the nipple with his tongue. 

 

“Fuck,” Bucky gasps, the sensation traveling straight to his cock. He can feel wetness in his sweats, his leaking head pushing up against his waistband and rubbing against his stomach.

 

“Can I--” Steve starts.

 

“Yes yes yes, please yes,” Bucky cuts him off, trying to pull Steve’s beautiful mouth straight onto him.

 

Steve smiles and relents, capturing Bucky’s nipple in his mouth  _ finally _ . Bucky groans, fingers tightening in Steve’s hair. Steve retaliates with a grunt and sucks harder, rubbing his tongue in swirling circles.

 

Steve pulls back after a few moments, admiring his work. Bucky’s chest heaves before him, spit slick and nipple a roughened red with  just a hint of indentation from his teeth. Steve reaches up to trace the mark as Bucky watches him, fingers combing through Steve’s hair.

 

Bucky barely has time to catch his breath before Steve descends on Bucky’s other nipple, sucking and laving the hard nub. Bucky doubles over as the feeling rockets through him, making it impossible to concentrate on anything except the way Steve’s mouth is making him feel right this second.

 

After a moment, Steve pulls away to catch his breath and Bucky takes the opportunity to pull Steve up toward him, shifting back to sit on his thighs and putting them at a better height. Their lips meet again in the middle, Bucky chasing after Steve’s tongue as he cradles his head. His hands slip down inside the back of Steve’s shirt, fingers trailing up and down as his hips copy the motion. 

 

Bucky breaks the kiss to bring his hands to Steve’s front, fingers resting on the edge of his hem. Steve stops, looking down as though he’d forgotten what they were doing. He glances off to the side, panic just at the edge of his expression.

 

“Hey hey, hold on,” Bucky says, bringing his hand up to Steve’s cheek and gently turning Steve to face him. “Do we need to stop?”

 

Steve sighs, resting in the warmth of Bucky’s palm. His hands shuffle across the quilt gathered around him, unsettled until he brings them to rest on Bucky’s thighs.

 

“I’m fine, I am. I just got… nervous,” Steve explains, his eyes darting around the room.

 

“Steve…” Bucky starts, a thousand different arguments in his head. He discards them all in favor of what he’d say to his best friend, not just the person in his bed. “I’m not doing anything you’re uncomfortable with, so we can keep the shirt on. We can keep everything on, Steve, I don’t care. But you should know…”

 

Bucky pauses dramatically, fingers brushing over the shirt hanging over Steve’s frame. Steve’s eyes have gone wide.

 

“You could be a damn scaly green monster under there and I’d still think you were gorgeous,” Bucky finishes. He rests his hand against Steve’s heart, waiting.

 

Steve chuckles in relief, his hands pulling Bucky’s away - he kisses each palm before resting them on Bucky’s thighs. Steve reaches for his hem and jerks the large shirt over his head in a clumsy motion, static gathering at his head and pulling his hair into a messy fray. He looks up at Bucky, a little less nervous and delightfully rumpled. 

 

Bucky’s hands do their exploring now, firm touches across Steve’s chest as he licks his lips over and over. Unable to resist, he gives Steve a gentle nudge until he’s laying back on the bed. Bucky licks and kisses all of the new skin before him, tracing each rib and meeting the heaving stomach as Steve’s breaths turn to pants. 

 

Bucky can see Steve’s erection tenting the loose folds of his sleep pants and he itches to touch. Steve’s hips are lifting off the bed, his cock seeking friction and release; Bucky nuzzles over to Steve’s ear as his free arm strokes purposefully down his stomach.

 

“Steve,” Bucky prompts, a gentle question in Steve’s ear. Bucky gets a bit distracted waiting for the reply, tracing his tongue over the shell of Steve’s ear and sucking the lobe into his mouth.

 

Steve moans in response, a great encouragement for Bucky but still not the answer he needs.

 

“Steve, can I touch you?” Bucky asks.

 

“Yes,” Steve answers desperately, leaning up to reach for the waistband of his pants.

 

“No, no. Let me,” Bucky says, nudging Steve to lay on his back once more. Steve complies, his hands gripping the sheets above him and eyes clenching shut.

 

Bucky hooks his fingers over the top of the pants, waiting for Steve to look at him before he continues.

 

“If we need to stop, you tell me, alright? Just say the word,” Bucky says, concern overriding his arousal.

 

“Okay,” Steve says, a little breathless but warm. He smiles up at Bucky, lifting his hips and cocking an eyebrow at him.

 

Bucky smirks back in response, drawing Steve’s pants up and off in one quick motion. His hands are back on Steve as soon as the pants are tossed behind him, rough calluses stroking across pale hair and skin. Steve’s cock is incredibly hard, the veins striking against pale pink, the reddened head resting against his stomach. Bucky takes his time admiring Steve, stroking his hands all around his legs and groin before moving toward his dick.

 

Bucky looks up at Steve and the sight takes his breath away: Steve is gripping the sheets near to tearing, biting his lip to a worrying degree as his darkened pupils glare down at Bucky. Once they make eye contact, Steve whimpers and drops his head back, his hips lifting in a silent plea.

 

Bucky takes pity, grasping him firmly and giving one long stroke up and down.

 

“Ah!” Steve cries out, back bowing in pleasure.

 

“Feels good?” Bucky asks, giving another rough, dry stroke. 

 

“Mhmm,” Steve says, eyes closed as he nods, hips following the motion of Bucky’s hand. 

 

Bucky doesn’t have much in his arsenal for guys beyond what he enjoys himself, so he reaches over to his bedside table to pull out his trusty jar of vaseline.

 

“This will feel even better,” Bucky explains, unsure if Steve ever does this for himself. He slicks up his left hand and leans toward Steve on his right, capturing Steve’s mouth in a kiss as he resumes his stroking.

 

It doesn’t take much, seeing as Steve is pretty worked up already. Bucky swallows Steve’s moans, murmuring his own encouragement anytime Steve thrusts up into his hand. Bucky keeps his strokes firm and constant, only breaking away every now and then to fondle Steve’s balls; he knows Steve is close when they draw up close to his body and he grasps Bucky’s arm.

 

“Oh! Buck--” Steve starts, dissolving into an incoherent shout as he begins to come, legs and arms flailing as the feeling shoots through him. Bucky holds him through it, cradling his neck in one arm and milking his cock of every last drop with the other. Steve shudders and shakes until he’s spent, immediately curling into Bucky’s chest.

 

Bucky holds him there, smiling in absolute delight; Steve coming with Bucky’s name on his lips had been the most erotic thing he’s ever seen. He doesn’t even think about how close he is himself until Steve brushes against his pants, causing Bucky to suck in a sharp breath. 

 

“I want to touch you,” Steve mumbles, still slurring a bit. His hand fumbles its way toward Bucky’s pants while Bucky tries to assist.

 

“Okay, yeah,” Bucky replies, doing nothing to mask the urgency in his voice; he knows he’s not lasting much longer.

 

They manage to pull Bucky’s pants halfway down his thighs before Steve’s hand is around his thick cock, fingers sliding through the wetness from the tip.

 

“Jeessuuuss fff--” Bucky gasps, caught off-guard by the welcomed hand.

 

Steve touches him much like Bucky did, stroking from root to tip with a firm grip. It feels more exploratory, Steve staring at his cock as his hand works up and down, but it’s absolutely working for Bucky.

 

“Do we need any--” Steve starts to say as he looks up, Bucky shaking his head immediately.

 

“I’m so close, just…” Bucky trails off in favor of action, spreading the slick from his hand over his cock before Steve’s hand returns.

 

They work together to bring Bucky off; it doesn’t take long before Bucky’s toes are curling as his orgasm hits him hard. His hands hold onto Steve as he rides the wave of pleasure, his cock shooting spurts across his stomach to mingle with the mess already there from Steve. Steve continues to stroke him, his hand loosening as Bucky comes down, breath calming and muscles unclenching.

 

“Steve,” Bucky whispers once he can speak, pulling Steve toward him and holding him as close as he’s allowed. Steve wraps his arm around Bucky in response, burying his face in Bucky’s neck and twining their sticky limbs together. Bucky can feel the grin on Steve’s face and smiles in return.

 

They stay like that for some time, breathing together and moving as little as possible. Steve shuffles a bit, pressing lazy kisses on whatever part of Bucky is nearest. Bucky hums in response, stroking his arms over Steve’s bare back. 

 

“We should clean up,” Bucky murmurs, though he makes no move to pull away.

 

“Hm,” Steve answers, tucking his face further into Bucky’s neck. Bucky chuckles, bringing his hand up to stroke through Steve’s hair and rest on his nape. He gives himself just a few more minutes before he forces himself to pull away.

 

Steve’s grip is lax for a moment, which makes Bucky think he might’ve slipped back into sleep for just a bit. Sure enough, Bucky looks down to see his eyes blearily opening.

 

“Good morning,” Bucky says before ducking down to take Steve’s lips in a sweet kiss. Steve smiles, returning the kiss, tightening his grip when Bucky starts to shift backwards.

 

“Steve, c’mon, I gotta at least wipe this off,” Bucky says, unable to keep the smile from his face.

 

“Fine,” Steve says as he relents, hand flailing about behind him in search of his shirt. Bucky joins him, ruffling around the bed to find their discarded clothes; they attempt this feat while still attached to each other, unwilling for even a moment to pull too far away. It makes the task a bit more complicated than necessary.

 

“Aha!” Bucky shouts, one arm around Steve, one flung off the edge of the bed. He raises the shirt Steve was wearing off the floor triumphantly as Steve abandons his lazy quest. 

 

Steve makes a grab for the shirt, rolling to his back as he looks at the mess drying on his stomach.

 

“Wait,” Bucky says, suddenly serious.

 

Steve looks up, quirks an eyebrow as Bucky holds the shirt aloft.

 

“Did you know that this was my shirt when you put it on tonight?” Bucky asks.

 

The reaction is immediate, Steve’s face blooming red as he curls into the quilt and attempts to hide.

 

“You’re sweet on me, Rogers! Admit it,” Bucky teases, chasing after Steve as he buries his face further into the bedding. 

 

“You stole my shirt to sleep in! Does it smell like me? Is that why? Awh,” Bucky wraps his arms around a wriggling Steve, pulling him against his chest.

 

“Shut up,” Steve mumbles somewhere around Bucky’s shoulder.

 

“I like it,” Bucky says, pressing a kiss to the lump he assumes is Steve’s head under the sheets. “I like you,” he adds.

 

Steve finally stills at that; Bucky reaches over to pull the blankets aside until he finds Steve’s face. He looks up at Bucky with such tenderness and wonder in his eyes, it stops Bucky’s advance for a quick, breathless moment. Then, Bucky leans down, brushing his lips slowly over Steve’s. 

 

“I really, really like you,” Bucky murmurs against Steve’s lips before capturing them with his own. Steve presses against Bucky, hand sliding up into the strands of Bucky’s hair as he holds them together. After a moment they break apart slowly, Steve still holding Bucky close.

 

“Bucky,” Steve says, stopping to swallow and take another breath. “I don’t know what… happens, after this, but--”

 

“Steve I--” Bucky tries to interject, tries to tell Steve that he doesn’t care about anyone else. He doesn’t want to be with anyone except for Steve, whatever that takes. Steve stops him with a hand to his mouth.

 

“Wait, lemme say this. Please?” Steve says, waiting for Bucky to nod before removing his hand.

 

“I like you too. … a whole lot, Buck, and I don’t know what all of this means or what it will lead to, but I want to keep being together. Here. With you and… like this.” Steve reaches for Bucky’s hand, staring at their fingers as he twines them together. Bucky hears him take a sharp breath. 

 

“You give me a reason to keep fighting,” Steve finishes, looking up at Bucky.

 

It stuns Bucky into silence. The words nestle deep inside, a warmth creeping into his bones. His relief doubles knowing that Steve feels as much as he does. He revels in the adoration in Steve’s eyes and lets his own be seen. He’d hidden this part away for so long now, not understanding and too afraid of the consequences. 

 

“Last night, in that trash heap on the street, I kept thinking about it, about you,” Steve continued. “I got so frustrated that I’d never even tried to say anything. I hated seeing you with those girls, and I never said. I fight so hard for what I believe in, but I never gave  _ myself _ a fighting chance.”

 

The air between them holds the weight of Steve’s words, heavy with vulnerability and potential. Bucky finds himself leaning forward, drawn to Steve even as his mind races with the intensity of what he’s saying. His hand comes up to hold the side of Steve’s face, his palm fitting perfectly to rest against Steve’s cheek. 

 

“I think you won already, Steve,” Bucky says quietly, not wanting to disturb the seriousness of the moment. “I’m yours, no fighting required.”

 

“You mean that?” Steve asks, his eyes going a bit glassy.

 

Bucky reaches over, holding the tender eye contact he and Steve have. Bucky brushes his fingers over Steve’s face, tracing the outline of his cheek, his strong jaw, cradling the delicate pulse beating wildly in Steve’s neck.

 

“Yeah,” Bucky answers. “Yeah, I do.”

 

Steve lets out a shaky breath, leaning fully into the warmth of Bucky’s palm as his eyes slide shut. Bucky watches as his face slips into pure contentment and relief; it’s beautiful, giving Bucky the undeniable urge to kiss Steve. So he does.

 

Steve responds immediately, yielding to the force of Bucky’s kiss. He gasps as Bucky nips at his lower lip, moaning when the motion turns into a caress. Bucky draws back, bringing his other hand up to cradle Steve’s face. Steve’s eyes are still closed and he’s positively  _ humming _ with pleasure. 

 

Bucky dives in for another kiss, knocking him and Steve back into the body-warmed sheets cradled around them. Steve chuckles into the kiss, holding on to Bucky’s shoulders as they shift and arrange themselves, never breaking from the kiss. Bucky can’t get enough, nibbling and licking into Steve’s mouth, pulling back only to breathe when necessary. 

 

They stay like this for some time, kissing and holding each other without a concern for anything besides the two of them in the safety of this bed. The kisses begin to calm, turning sloppy and lazy as eyes drift closed again. 

 

“What time is your shift today?” Steve says against Bucky’s lips.

 

Bucky stops, thinks for a moment, and then ignores the question. He nuzzles along Steve’s jaw, making his way to the warm crook of his neck.

 

“Buckyyy,” Steve chides. Bucky huffs a breath into Steve’s collarbone before reluctantly looking over at his clock on the bedside table.

 

“Oh, I have a couple hours,” Bucky says, surprised by how early it actually is.

 

“Good,” Steve answers, tugging Bucky back to where he’d been settling before. 

 

Bucky snuggles close, humming with contentment as Steve pulls the blankets over to cover them both. He’s drifting off into what will most likely be an  _ excellent _ nap when Steve speaks again.

 

“I’m yours too, you know,” Steve says, nearly too quiet for Bucky to catch.

 

“Hmm?” Bucky prompts, blearily opening his eyes to look over at Steve.

 

“I’m yours. Have been for a while, now,” Steve says, brushing the messy tendrils of dark hair off of Bucky’s forehead. 

 

Bucky doesn’t say anything, just reaches for Steve’s hand and curls his own around it. He brings both to his lips, pressing a kiss as he looks up at Steve. He lets everything he hides away show clearly on his face: the love he feels for Steve, the depth of his caring, and the desire that’s always present.

 

Steve squeezes Bucky’s hand, leaning down to press his lips against Bucky’s forehead. When he pulls back, he’s smiling. And that’s the image Bucky carries into his dreams: Steve, glowing with love and devotion, looking at Bucky like he’s his own personal superhero. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU. Thank you so much for taking the time to read. It makes the months poking at a google doc all worth it.
> 
> Follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/HeadCumbernerd) if you wanna shout at me to write other stuff, or just shout.


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